


Birds of Prey

by TheDragonHunter



Series: Owls, Eagle-owls, Ravens [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, I'm not good at tagging, Substance Abuse, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, a fic no one asked for, i guess?, i mean they're not perfectly happy but then again no one ever is right?, just a lil' bit, or at writing for that matter, so of course i'm gonna write it xd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29864901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonHunter/pseuds/TheDragonHunter
Summary: If there's one thing about having close to no relatives at all that Nero really doesn't mind, it's the complete lack of family drama. You just can't have skeletons in the closet without any bodies to put in said closet in the first place, right?"Yeah, right," said, God, probably. "Sure."---In other words, Dante's still going for that 'Father of the Year' prize mug, Nero's life keeps speeding down the rabbit hole, Lady might finally be in for a date, that won't involve ruining her clothes with various amounts of demonic body fluids, Trish is the only person with a vague idea of what's going on, while Credo and Kyrie have absolutely no idea what they got themselves into, and Patty's just sitting in the corner, trying to get a role in a school play and some decent grades in maths.Part two to 'Nesting Birds', but can be read as a stand-alone.
Relationships: Dante & Lady (Devil May Cry), Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante & Trish (Devil May Cry), Patty Lowell & Nero
Series: Owls, Eagle-owls, Ravens [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195673
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. A Back Talon Of A Harpy Eagle Averages 3 To 4 Inches In Size

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :D Welcome to the part two of what seems to be a series right now xd If you haven't read 'Nesting Birds', then I don't think that's all that big of a problem - basically, it's an AU, in which Nero's been raised by Dante, and Dante's been just as shitty at doing the job, as one might have expected - though reading that fic first would probably give you a better idea of what all the characters are like in my works, and there might be some real tiny references to the events there, but they won't be all that crucial to understanding the plot.
> 
> What's kinda important to know - it's an AU, meaning, I'm taking some liberties when it comes to the canon (and when I say 'some', I mean 'quite a lot'), so, you know. I'm aiming for weekly updates, though considering my tempo of writing and all the time I don't have, it'll probably come out as monthly updates, anyway xd It's probably not going to be a very long story, so maybe it won't be all that much of a problem.
> 
> So, uhm... enjoy, I guess?

Nero doesn't leave, and it's not a big deal.

Honestly, he'd even argue it ain't no deal at all; the morning he's supposed to be gone, he simply wakes up in his own home, and spends the whole day squeezed up on the couch with Dante, eating pizza and watching sick amounts of 'Say Yes to the Dress'. Business as usuall.

When Lady asks him about it, he tells her, he simply came to an ultimate conclusion, that a comfortable bed is worth putting up with Dante's shit on a daily basis, which is not entirely a lie. Weather Lady believes him or not is debatable; either way, she drops the subject, and since Trish just smiles and ruffles his hair the next time she comes by and sees him desperately trying to clean some strange, disgusting substance, clinging to his favourite boots, and Dante just goes right back to being his usual, cheesy, ever-grinning self, it's kind of like he's never even mentioned leaving the shop in the first place.

And it's cool, all right, though when Patty, _Patty,_ of all creatures to ever grace the Earth, keeps her mouth miraculously shut when she comes back (save for one, brief 'told you so', without which she'd probably explode), Nero starts to question his own sanity a little bit. It doesn't last very long, and soon enough, he decides to just go with the flow, and the rest of the summer passes in one, long flurry of lazy, summer days, sleeping until noon, watching cartoons, beating Dante's ass in Mortal Kombat, having his own ass beaten by Patty, cruising the town in his brand new van with no particular purpose, hanging out with Jonathan those few times he passes by, losing whatever savings he still has to Trish and Lady on poker nights (only because they're cheating though, and he wins it all back when it gets to pool), and their conjoined efforts to make Fredi the first ever millionare, whose fortune comes solely from selling strawberry sundaes.

All in all, nothing's changed; the whole affair is just another position on the ever-growing list of things Dante and him never talk about (like they don't talk about Nero's grandparents; they don't talk about his parents, either; they don't talk about the times Dante goes MIA, or about the fact, that they spend more money on alcohol than on food, and they most definitely don't talk about whatever the Hell it is, that makes him wake him up screaming in the middle of the night, every now and then; it's ridiculous, yeah, but that's the level of fucked up Nero can actually deal with. Now that he thinks of it, they actually don't talk about quite a lot of things, not to mention those, they don't even talk about not talking about.).

The point is, things are good. So much so, actually, that one August day, completly out of the blue, Nero wakes up with an ugly, treacherous feeling.

Like, hoping he might actually gonna have a good year.

The feeling doesn't go away, and Nero has a nagging suspicion it's going to get him into trouble sooner rather than later, considering the way his luck has been working so far. Surprisingly though, the rest of the summer passes with no noticeable incidents, and when the school year comes tumbling in, Nero only has one trouble-ish issue to deal with.

The plaster.

It's gotta go, end of the topic, it doesn't matter that the bone still feels a little broken after nearly two months. There's just no way Nero's gonna keep walking around the school wearing the thing, because one, thanks to Dante and Patty (with some small contributions from Lady), it looks like a love child of a modern art performance and something a drunken toddler could draw just before passing out, two, this year is going to be the year Nero finally makes it into the school team's starting lineup, and he gives the total amount of no fucks weather or not it is fair to beat the living shit out of some jackasses along the way, and three, he just really, _really_ misses a decent fight. Every time he gets into the storeroom, he feels the Grim buzzing with impatience, and, try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he gets it, or at least, some part of him does; whenever he touches the scythe's handle, there's this desire to hunt, to fight, to maim, kill, skin, slaughter, and most of it is Grim's, it sure is, but if Nero's to be honest with himself, it's always just _most_ of it _,_ not _all._

Anyway, the plaster's gotta go, which is the sole reason why Nero, Dante, Lady and the Twin Swords are now cramped up in the tiny kitchen, with Nero standing in front of the table, balancing on his feet, with one hand in the pocket of his jeans.

He clears his throat, leaning slightly against the counters behind his back.

"So," he starts, feeling a little uneasy under the anticipatory gazes of four pairs of eyes, "we have all gathered here to celebrate the day my hand is finally freed from that piece of shit, that, at some point of its history, might've been a plaster..."

"And I'll drink to that!" Dante raises his glass, grinning cheekily, while Lady rolls her eyes.

"For the record, I'm only here to make sure the four of you don't blow up the whole place in the process."

Dante gasps, holding hand to his chest in mock offense.

"Oh, we would NEVER..."

Lady looks at him, absolutely unimpressed.

"If there's anything I've learned in my life, it's to never put anything beyond the Spardas." She takes a sip of her tea and motions for Nero to go on. He grabs Agni and Rudra and places them against the wall, so that they can have a better look at what's happening.

"Anyway, since you two blockheads have been bitching about who's gonna cut the thing for the last two weeks, I came up with an excellent solution." He fetches a dollar from his pocket and presents it proudly to his spectators. "We're gonna flip a coin. 'S that fine with everyone?" The Twin Swords show no sign of protest, so Nero prepares to make the toss. "Alrighty, let's do this! Heads for the Reds and tails for the... ugh..." Dante chuckles in the corner and Nero gives him an angry look "Ya know how it works. Here comes nothin'..."

He throws the coin into the air; it spins a couple of times, flickering in the dim light of the single bubble, and aims for the table in a majestic arch, only to gracefully lands on its edge, a perfect summary of Nero's entire existence.

For a split second, they all just stare at it with disbelief, before Nero sighs.

"Well, fuck me."

Lady and Dante burst out laughing at the exact same second both swords let out a vengeful cry.

"WHAT IS THIS SORCERY?"

"YOU MUST HAVE CHEATED!"

"BROTHER, YOUR FALSE ACCUSATIONS WOUND ME DEEPLY, I AM–"

"ENOUGH!" Nero rubs his face with his good arm. Of course, there's no way something as simple as a _coin flip_ could go smoothly, because the universe would just fucking collapse, if one thing in his life actually worked out perfectly well. "You can do it both _at once,_ okay?"

That clearly catches them off guard, because swords turn blessedly silent, considering his offer.

"It does seem fair, brother."

"It does, I must admit."

"So be it." Agni's ruby eyes turn back to Nero "We shall join our forces to free you from your shackles, young master!"

"Great." Nero looks at Dante, still choking at the table "Would ya make yourself useful?"

Dante stumps his cigarette and salutes him lazily, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Will do, young master!"

Nero just huffs with irritation.

"I swear, I'mma punch ya, you just get me out of this thing."

Dante grabs both swords, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"You got some real bad manners there, kid."

Lady snorts into her tea, and Dante turns around to look at her, eyes narrowed.

"Got somethin' to say, darlin'?"

"Oh, I just think it's funny, you preaching about 'manners' and stuff," Lady replies calmly, putting yet another sugar cube into her cup and stirring it slowly, "especially, that compared to you, Nero could pass as a page to the British Queen herself." She takes a sip and puts the cup neatly on the saucer, raising one eyebrow in anticipation. "Now, get the job done, will you? Because thanks to a certain someone, I've got a meeting with one doctor Stilman I'm already late to."

"Oh, for fucks sake, I wasn't aiming at ya..."

Lady just waves her hand dismissively.

"It's the outcome that matters, not the intentions, and let me tell you, good sir, it's not very polite to shoot a lady."

For a split second, Dante looks kind of like he wants to stick out his tongue at her, but then realizes it would only prove her point, so he just turns away pointedly, in an attempt to salvage the remains of his dignity. Lady winks at Nero behind his back, and Nero beams at her, putting his right arm on the table.

"Ready, kiddo?"

"Can't get any more ready than that."

To his own surprise, Nero doesn't even feel the blades grazing his skin; the plaster gives up easily, as if it was a sheet of paper, but his arm gets so riddiculously itchy all of the sudden, like his flesh's going to peel off his bones, and when he tries to get rid of it quickly, it seems like the plaster's glued to his skin, there's no way he can find a loose place to undermine it.

"It won't... come off!"

Dante shrugs, resting the swords back against the wall.

"Maybe we should've taken it off sooner." He cracks his knuckles and grabs the plaster firmly, right where it's been cut. "It might sting a 'lil... Damn, it's a real... ooof!"

The thing finally comes off, with an ugly, wet sound. Or maybe it doesn't, beacuse the thing underneath it is sure as Hell _not_ Nero's arm.

The room's so silent, he can hear the cracking of his own joints, when he slowly clenches what used to be his fingers into a fist, and then unclenches them even slower; he feels the tendons creaking slightly, long-forgotten muscles contracting with small shivers, the blood rushing to fill the numbness of an unused limb with warmth.

Except this warmth never reaches his skin. Or, scales, it looks like.

Fucking scales. And claws. And it's bloody _glowing_ , and it's not, it's most _definitely not..._

Rudra's voice echoes in the silence of the kitchen.

"I must say, it looks quite different from what I remember."

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" Nero roars, wiggling the monstrosity, that still refuses to get the fuck off his arm.

Dante's just staring at him, completly dumbfounded, and it's like a punch to the guts, beacuse Dante never, _ever_ stops talking, he just doesn't, and Nero's head starts feeling very, very light in a very, very funny way. He backs up a little, his legs trembling, the thing on his limb glowing an even brighter shade of blue.

"What... what the Hell... is going... on..." he shakes his head, trying to get rid of black patches, floating in the corners of his vision.

Lady manages to close her mouth, somehow; she makes a small step towards Nero, but he avoids her touch, still backing up in the vague direction of the door.

"Nero..."

Oh, it's bad. It's a fucking disaster.

Last time he's heard Lady using that soft 'everything's okay, don't you worry' voice, he was four, and Dante was bleeding out on the floor.

"What. The fuck. IS THIS?"

"Nero, please, it's not..."

A small giggle escapes him, a weak, choked sound, dangerously close to a sob.

"Not that bad? Oh, yeah it is."

"Just calm down, we'll figure it... for fuck's sake, Dante, say something!"

Dante hasn't changed his position in the slightest since the plaster revealed the Thing to the world, standing in the middle of the kitchen like he went out to buy smokes so fast, he forgot to take his body with him, but now he actually starts showing some vital signs; he clears his throat and makes a vague gesture towards Nero's arm, which is _not helpful at all,_ and Nero starts feeling like he really needs to sit down. His back meets the wall, and his legs finally give up beneath him, as he slides down onto the floor, staring at Dante with wide eyes, the weight in his chest getting too heavy for him to breathe properly.

"WHAT IS THAT?!"

Lady elbows Dante harshly, and that seems to get him going a little more, because he manages a slightly dazed grin.

"Chill, kiddo, it was bound to happen, sooner or later."

Nero just keeps gaping at him with disbelief.

"It was bound to..."

"Yeah, there's nothin' to freak out about."

"Nothin' to..." Nero flails his scaly, clawed limb with utter fury "I'm goin' back to my fuckin' _school_ tomorrow, how the Hell's THAT not a reason to freak out?!"

Dante just shrugs, coming a little closer, to take a better look at Nero's arm.

"Bet it ain't gonna stay like that forever."

Nero laughs hysterically.

"Yeah, ya got that part right. Cut it off."

"... what?"

"You deaf? I said CUT. IT OFF."

"Nero, this is not a good idea..."

He looks at Lady, eyes narrowed.

"And why the fuck not? For all we know, it might grow back normal, and even if it doesn't, not havin' an arm's still better than runnin' around with this shit, like some freakin' weirdo!"

"Nero, for fuck's sake, no one's gonna cut your damn arm off..."

"Fine. Fuckin' fine." He slowly rises to his feet, his right arm held stiffly to the side, to make sure he doesn't have to touch it; Lady and Dante are still watching him with uncertainty, as he puffs loose strands of hair off his face. "I'll do it myself."

He makes a run for Agni and Rudra, discarded on the table, just out of his reach; he sees Lady coming to block his way out of the corner of his eye, but he's faster, way too fast for her to stop him, her every move playing out like in slow motion, as time stretches in front of him into a small eternity, the same way it always has. He corrects his course, so that he won't collide with her, and lunges forward, fingertips almost, almost brushing against Agnis's handle, the sword's excitement buzzing against his skin, when he feels Dante grabbing him by the collar.

Agni lets out a groan of disappointment, but it disappears entirely in Nero's roar of pure fury, as he squirms viciously, feet dangling in the air, trying to reach some part of Dante's body he could inflict his revenge upon.

"LEMME GO!"

"Not a chance, kid."

Nero bares his fangs at him, a ferocious growl escaping his throat, and he makes a swing with his possessed arm, but Dante catches it effortlessly, tips of Nero's claws glowing their bright blue mere inches from his face.

"Seriously? Wanna do this the hard way?"

The human in Nero sure as Hell does, but there's also that sorry af demon whelp there, that makes his body go completly still in a blink of an eye, hanging limp like an extremally furious kitten. Dante grins smugly.

"Thought so."

He carries Nero all the way out of the kitchen and to the main room, where he dumps him unceremoniously onto the couch. Nero hisses at him angrily, and wraps himself in a blanket cocoon, pointedly leaving his right arm out of it. Dante rolls his eyes.

"Really? You gonna mope about it all night?"

Nero wraps the blanket tighter around himself and huffs, as Dante kneels in front of him.

"Y'know what happens to kids who mope, right? They don't grow, and stay annoyin' lil' brats forever."

Nero growls, but Dante just smirks.

"Rude."

He falls onto the couch, grabs the remote and starts flipping through channels. Nero sits there, stiff like a block of wood, when Lady hops onto the seat next to him.

"They're airing 'Above the Law' somewhere tonight."

Dante throws her an amused look.

"I see you're a woman of culture."

"Oh, shut up."

Another few seconds of silence pass, before Dante finally finds the right channel, and drops the remote on the top of Nero's blanket burrito.

"It's really not that bad kiddo, trust me."

"It's worse than bad. It's a fuckin' disaster." Nero curls up into an even tighter ball. "It's over. The school's over, I'm over, my life's over."

"Aw, c'mon, you think that's never happened to anyone before? Hell naw. When I was your age, shit like that was business as usuall, ya got lucky it only appeared now."

Nero sniffs softly.

"For real?"

"Sure thing, kiddo. Know it's hard to believe, but I haven't always been this awesome."

"He's still not this awesome, just to be clear," Lady chimes in, "like last year, when we were on a gig together, and he got so..."

"Lady, if your life has any value to you, you'll drop that story right there and never mention it again."

Lady goes silent, but grins so cheekily, Nero's more convinced, that said story will, in fact, be mentioned again, than that the sun will rise tomorrow morning.

"Point is, I know it sucks, but that arm won't be stayin', promise. And it's way easier to hide than, say, horns, anyway."

"Dante, you're not helping."

"No?"

Nero smiles weakly.

"I still hate it."

"I know."

He pokes on one of the scales with his finger.

"And there's really nothin' you could do about it?"

"Nope."

Nero sighs in resignation, falling deeper into the cushions.

"'Kay, it can stay for now. But could you, ugh... bandage it, maybe?"

Lady gives him a soft smile.

"Sure."

She rises from the couch and disappears in the bathroom, only to emerge seconds later with a first-aid kit, sitting back next to Nero.

"I'll have to touch it, though."

"Oh. O... okay, I guess."

He extends his arm towards her uncertainly, and Lady starts doing her magic, her fingers barely brushing against the demonic flesh.

It's a funny sensation; the scales still feel somewhat raw, the slightest touch causing tingles to run up Nero's arm, all the way to the place, where they meet with normal skin. The blue glow seems to be fading a little, a tinge of golden hue taking over the tips of his claws and slowly creeping up the cracks.

If Lady notices it, she doesn't say anything, which's really cool of her, if you ask Nero. She finishes the job, smoothing the bandages.

"There you go."

Nero rubs his nose, and retreats back into his blanket cocoon, this time wrapping up both of his hands.

"Thanks."

Lady just ruffles his hair and gets comfortable in her corner of the couch.

"Don't mention it."

Nero sniffs again and focuses on the screen, feeling awfully sleepy, all of the sudden. He worms a tiny inch closer to Dante's side.

There's this feeling inside him, one he's been hating, ever since he became aware of its existence; it's just one of these things, that are stuck in the most fucked up, inhuman part of him, this conviction, that as long, as he stays close to Dante, things will be fine. And it's not just that it's childish and pathetic, it's straight up stupid, because staying close to Dante usually has the opposite effect.

The thing is, right now, Nero's willing to hang onto anything, that'd make him feel better, so he just lets it take over, chase away all the fear, all the anger, every twisted thought; he is what he is, that's neither his fault, nor Dante's, and there's nothing that could be done about it.

He falls asleep half an hour into the movie, with his head resting against Lady's shoulder, and he doesn't have any dreams. Which is also pretty cool.

***

"Neerooo..."

He lets out a small whine, and burries his face deeper into the warmth of his nest, unsuccessfully trying to shield himself from both the light, and a girly voice, whispering straight into his ear.

"Aww, you look so adorable!"

Nero's eyes plop open.

Shit.

He sits up quickly, peeling himself off Dante's side, which, in turn, causes Dante to jump awake, his eyes flashing dark crimson, before he notices Patty and grins groggily.

"Hey, Pattycakes."

"Hey Dante!" she chirps, mericlessly unwrapping Nero from his blanket cocoon.

"Patty, what the Hell... STOP!"

"NO!" She lets go off the covers, only to give Nero a scolding look, crossing her arms on her chest. "We're going to be late for school _again_ , and it's going to be your fault _aga_..." she freezes mid-word, staring at Nero's right arm, still desperately clutching onto the blanket. Nero follows her gaze, only to discover, that he must have loosened the bandages over night, bare claws burning furiously with bright blue.

SHIT.

He tries to fix the dressing, but damn, Patty can be quick like a Fury, when she really wants to; she grabs his hand, miraculously avoiding cutting herself with the talons, a look of pure awe all over her face.

"You've got a _new Devil Arm?"_

"I don't..."

"Why didn't you tell me? Neroo, you have to tell me things like that!"

"Patty, it's not..."

"Honestly, I thought we were friends..."

"PATTY."

Patty finally manages to shut up for a few seconds, still torn somewhere between deep hurt and buzzing excitement.

Nero takes a deep breath.

"This is not... I mean, I don't have..."

"That's not a Devil Arm," Dante offers helpfully, "that's his... well, his real arm."

Patty furrows her brows.

"What do you mean?"

Nero sighs in resignation.

"I mean THIS." He unwraps his hand, which, by the way, looks just as bad, as it did in the evening, but when Patty carefully pokes it with one finger, the scales feel somewhat less like a flesh wound.

"Oh." She looks to Dante with uncertainty. "Why does it look like that?"

Dante shrugs, apparently getting ready for his first nap of the day.

"It just does. We got rid of that plaster yesterday, and _whoosh,_ there it was."

"Oh," Patty says again, picking up the bandages to fix them back in place, "that's... unfortunate."

Nero chuckles darkly.

"An understatement of the year."

"But it's gonna... it's gonna turn normal again, right?"

"At some point, yeah."

"That's good," Patty finishes wrapping with a neat, little bow, "I mean, it looks really cool, but I don't think they'd let you in the football team with it."

"That's like, the last of my problems right now, but thanks for bringing it up, Patty."

She smiles at him sweetly.

"You're welcome, Nero. Now, come on, we're gonna be late for real."

Nero grumbles, but gets off the couch, grabbing his backpack on his way to the doors, before one more thing pops up in his mind.

"Wait a sec."

He retrieves a slightly mutilated piece of paper from the bottom of his bag, and pokes Dante with a pen.

"Y'gotta sign this."

Dante opens one eye, looking at the scrap with utter exhaustion.

"What's that?"

"A permission for me to go on the camping trip next month."

"Didn't I sign one already?"

"Yeah, but ya misspelled your own name, and that bitchy Williams lady called it 'the most pathetic attempt at faking a signature she's ever seen in her entire career', so please, Dante, focus. Maximum effort, a'ight?"

Dante sighs, but grabs the paper and leans over the coffee table, painstakingly calligraphing each letter, which, sadly, doesn't make them look any less like something written by a quadriplegic, before looking at his work uncertainly.

"Seems fine to me."

Nero takes a peek over his shoulder.

"Yeah, that'll have to do. Sweet dreams!" He rushes over to Patty, who's tapping her foot impatiently by the doors, and drags her out to the street, shoving the paper into her hands. "It is fine, right?"

Patty squints at the permission.

"I think so," she says finally, "and even if it isn't, it's not like anyone could decipher it, anyway. Seriously, Nero, you could both work on that handwriting, it's the most atrocious thing I've seen in my entire life."

The fact that Patty's able to say it with a straight face, even after seeing stuff like fucking Nobodies, is simply beyond Nero, so he just lets it slide, settling for a little huff.

"By the way, my mum made us lunch."

She hands him a paper bag; Nero tries to inspect its content discretly and, apparently, fails, because Patty rolls her eyes theatrically.

"Yes, she did cut off the crust."

Nero sniffs, trying to assume his best nonchalant expression.

"I don't care about the crust."

"Yeah, riiight," Patty chuckles, jumping over a puddle, "don't worry, though, it's kinda cute."

Nero feels the tips of ears starting to burn, and he rubs his nose furiously, trying to think of a way to change the subject as quickly, as possible, before Patty does it for him.

And, of course, the change is only for the worse.

"So, you know how the theater club..."

"...which I'm not joinin'..."

"...which you most certainly will be joining, is putting on 'Romeo and Juliet' in December? Well, I've been thinking about going to the rehearsal, and..."

"Patty, no."

She looks at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"No to what? I haven't asked you anything."

"I'm not going to play any part in that whole event."

"But..."

"I said, no! No, I'm nor going to play Romeo, or Juliet, or even a fuckin' tree, end of story. Enough that I agreed to be your technician this year, which, by the way, is kinda off the table, 'cause of this shit." He wiggles his bandaged limb, and Patty gives gim a sly look.

"You know, an actor doesn't really need both hands to play his part."

"Trust me, knowing my acting skills, I'd need every single part of my body to pull off being a damn sunflower. 'Sides, that's just really not my thing."

('Certainly not since the Toothbrush Incident, no' something at the back of his mind offers cheerfully.)

"But you promised! You promised, that if I write your English essays, you'll sign up for the theater club with me!"

"And I did, didn't I? Not my fault things always get messed up."

Patty huffs irritably.

"You're _the worst._ Fine, have it your way. Will you at least help me prepare for the rehearsal?"

"If that means ya won't be moping 'bout that the whole day, then yeah, sure."

He hears a car getting closer, so he grabs Patty's elbow to pull her to the side of the street, and a black van passes by, speeding like crazy in Capulet's narrow alleys, only to stop a few feet ahead of them, blocking the road.

"What the..."

And then he feels it, this unnerving itch, starting at the tips of his claws and running up his spine, heart thrumming in his chest.

He takes a step back.

"Run."

"What? Why?"

The doors of the van open, but Nero's seen enough already.

"Patty, fuckin' RUN!"

She listens, for once, jumping into a gallop in the direction of the shop; Nero rushes just behind her, then grabs her hand, in a desperate attempt to make her run faster, even though he knows all too well it's impossible, that she's already speeding as fast, as her lungs allow her to, and then Patty lets out a surprised yelp, and trips over her own feet.

"PATTY!"

He drops to his knees next to her, but her eyes are hazy, like she doesn't quite know what's happening around them.

"Pats, c'mon, we gotta go... c'mon!"

His head snaps up at the sound of heavy footsteps.

A man is walking towards them, white coat flapping on the wind, eyes hidden in the deep shadow of his cap, and the closer he is, the more Nero feels like his skin's going to crawl off his bones.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The man just smirks, lifting one hand in a gesture similar to a blessing, and, as if answering his command, darkness swallows everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the stupid chapter names are back, by the way, 'cause if there's anything I love in this world, aside from Jesus and my dad's dumplings, it is reading random fun facts at 3 AM, and then turning them into chapter titles. I'm sorry xd
> 
> Anyway, if you enjoyed, consider leaving a comment or a kudo, but as always, no pressure, we're good either way, alright? Just have yourself a nice lil' day, friend :D


	2. Most Raptors Are Nearly Silent Birds, With Only A Few Calls Used In Extreme Circumstances, Such As An Alarm Call Or The Dramatic Begging Calls Of Young Hatchlings

"So? Lace or frills?"

Trish gives Lady a critical look from her spot on the bed, head tilted to the side.

"Why not both?"

Lady purses her lips.

"Because I like to be reasonable about my cash, that's why." She turns around to get a better look at her back parts in the mirror, the gown sparkling in the dying light of autumn sun. "Isn't it a bit too much? Like, doesn't my ass look fat in it?"

Trish chuckles and stretches out, carelessly causing a handful of dresses to fall onto the floor.

"You're rocking all these outfits, darling, so it's your call, but I'd keep at least a half of them, if I were you. When it comes to clothes, there's no such thing as 'too much', in all meanings of the word." She checks her perfect manicure and clicks her tongue in disapproval at some flaw, that's entirely invisible to Lady. "I must say, though, I've not seen you sporting a dress in a long time."

Lady takes a sip of wine and hums thoughtfully.

The last time she wore a dress was... shit, years ago, now. Probably that one evening, when for some unimaginable reasons, she thought going on a proper date with Dante could ever be a good idea.

(It was _not_ a good idea, and buying a whole new outfit especially for the occasion was even less of one, since once the evening was over, it ended up showing way more than intended, thanks to some rips, placed artistically here and there, a little scorched and covered in various stains, origins of which Lady would rather not remember.

At least the dinner was good. And she got to see Dante in a suit, which was admittedly a sight to behold, and not an unpleasant one.)

"A lady's got to refresh her wardrobe every now and then, no? You never know what might come in handy."

Trish raises an eyebrow at her, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"That's all there is to it? Just some casual shopping, nothing bigger?"

Lady smooths the fabric of the dress, feeling her calloused fingertips scraping against its soft texture, and sighs, looking at Trish's impeccable complexion in the mirror.

"I just figured I could use a change of style, for once. Plus, it's the checkout day, and I'm going to get some decent cash out of Dante, even if I have to blow his head up for it. He owes me way too much." She taps her chin with one finger, musing. "Actually, after that last fuckup of his, I think I should add something up to his debt."

"Sweetie, you absolutely should," Trish offers cheerfully, pushing herself up off the bed, "shooting an associate? Unacceptable." She stops in front of the mirror right next to Lady, fixing her entirely faultless lipstick. "Just send me my cut, will you?"

"Oh, so you're just going to leave me with that mess?"

Trish sends her a dazzling grin.

"Lady, no matter how hard I'd try, I could never reach your level of finesse, when it comes to torturing Dante for cash."

Lady chuckles, gulping down the rest of the wine straight form the bottle.

"Honestly, every now and then I feel a bit guilty about just how much fun it is. You know, those times when I start questioning if he can even properly count to ten."

Trish pouts her lips, and squints at her own reflection.

"He'd spend it all on booze or pizza, or worse things, anyway, we're just saving him from himself. We're practicaly guardian angels here."

"I like your way of thinking."

Trish smiles smugly, finally content with the state of her makeup.

"You should keep this one, but just in case: if you really wanna doll yourself up, you should go with the lace."

"Why would I want to..."

"I said: 'just in case', hon. Enjoy your evening."

She winks at Lady and leaves, waving her fingers in a goodbye gesture, before closing the doors; Lady sighs and turns back to face herself in the mirror.

Yeah, she is rocking the dress. Still.

Absently, she touches the pearly scar, starting just below her left collarbone and disappearing under soft, black satin; she traces her finger over its invisible shape, as it stretches all the way down, a thin, jagged line across her ribs, streak of pale pink to the side of her stomach, until it curves around her hipbone, fading away into a pattern of old scalds; she eyes constellations of cuts and bitemarks on her forearms, the faint scar on her nose, pictures the reddish reminder of her father's blade adorning her leg, barely covered by the frills.

Funny thing, the time. Marks some, while leaving others untouched, no matter how much they might try to pretend otherwise.

Lady snaps out of her thoughts and stretches gracefully to unzip the dress in one, fluid motion, because refreshing the wardrobe or not, entering Devil May Cry in a perfectly fine, brand new dress feels like straight up asking for having it ruined.

Just before leaving, she catches the last glimpse of herself in the mirror, and a small smirk finds its way onto her lips.

No need to bother with a dress, anyway, if she can look good as Hell in plain jeans, right?

The sun's hanging low above the horizon when she walks out onto the street, but the air's still warm, summer not quite gone yet, and Lady decides to take a walk, enjoying these last, fleeting moments, when Capulet actually seems like a place worth living in, before returning to its usual business of non-stop rain, relieved only by an equally persistent snow. It's such a calm afternoon, mild and golden, with barely the faintest breeze, rustling in the color-changing leaves, it'd be a shame to miss it.

It's peaceful. It's quiet. The kids are laughing on some playground she passes by, a cat's asleep on a windowsill.

And yet, the closer Lady gets to the shop, the more nervous she gets, even if she's adamant about not letting the feeling sink in.

As ridiculous as it may seem now, there used to be a time, just after they first met, when Dante's presence would make her skin crawl. Here's the thing: people in general are way less blind to what surrounds them, then they might wish to be. They know evil; they can feel it, even if they cross their hearts and hope to die that they don't, even if they'll blame every inexplicable shiver to some nonexistent drafts, laugh at themselves for being a little jumpy about the dark, and pointedly ignore all premonitions they might have. It's something rooted so deep within their souls, it can never be erased entirely, and Lady's never been one to choose the easy way of pretending, that there is nothing more to the world than the eyes can see; and while Dante's always been just human enough to keep her fingers off the trigger most of the time, she couldn't quite help the shiver, that ran down her spine every single time she sensed this half-dormant, scaly beast twitching beneath his skin. And boy, oh boy, did it not want to stay put; just as she was starting to feel more at ease around him, it'd rear its ugly head, to remind her, that while Dante might act like an average preschooler on the daily basis, he is, in fact, very much not human, never was, and never will be.

A human wouldn't hesitate for a split second, before rushing in to save a stray kid from a charging Behemoth. A human would not flinch every time he passed by a church. A human wouldn't know how to hit her where it'd hurt the most, in every single argument they ever had, quite _that_ well.

( _human fingers wouldn't mark her hips with scalds, human lips would not leave the taste of smoke on her tongue, human teeth would not pierce her skin with such ease, human eyes could never seem this dark and hollow, even in the dead of night_ )

There was no denying, that Dante was demon enough, to never be mistaken for anything else, and if there was one thing Lady's learned throughout her life, it was that she should never, under any circumstances, feel at ease around a demon, no matter how child-like and meek it might be. But then again, the longer she knew him, the more obvious it became, that at the same time, Dante was human enough to be trusted. That he would rather break his own bones, than hurt anyone on purpose. That underneath all of that gleefully detached approach, he actually cared about things, in his own, weird way.

And yet, after all these years, Lady still can't say with all certainty, that she has him, or Nero, for that matter, entirely figured out. She just can't.

Just like she can't help, but feel uneasy every single time, they need to talk about anything more serious than their respective kill-count from the latest gig. And now, she most definitely has something kinda important to say to him, or, she thinks so, at least.

She'll just see how things go today.

Lady kicks the doors of Devil May Cry open and steps inside, her head high and her eyes narrowed in determination of someone, who comes for what is rightfully his, and it not going to let anyone stop him from getting it.

"DANTE, YOU LAZY SON OF A..."

"Good to see ya too, Lady."

She stops for a moment, trying to locate Dante's current position, only to discover him sitting on the couch, in front of the turned off TV; he turns over his shoulder to look at her, puffing a perfect circle of cigarette smoke, fingers drumming against the backrest. Lady heads over to him, looking around the shop.

"The Hell's going on?"

"Whatcha mean?"

She makes a vague gesture in his direction.

"You're like... awake. In the middle of the day."

Dante huffs a small laugh.

"Yeah." He flicks ash from the cigarette onto the floor, and Lady can almost hear Patty's shrill of terror. "Can't sleep."

"That's gotta be a first."

Dante just hums and rubs his chest absently, a grimace of pain flickering across his face, before it's replaced with his usual easy grin.

"Y'came here to rob me of my hard-earned cash, didn't ya?"

Lady rolls her eyes and takes a sit on the coffee table, taking out her phone to have all her notes at hand.

"I came here to collect _my_ hard-earned cash, before you do your magic, and it'll all be gone, like it never existed. Seriously, I have no idea how you do that."

Dante's grin grows even wider.

"Years of practice, hunny, ain't somethin' that just comes easily." He pushes himself up, corners of his lips twitching in a small wince, as he comes over to the desk and starts searching for the last month's payments. Lady gives him another look.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I must've just slept weird, got fuckin' cramps all over."

Considering the positions Lady's seen him falling asleep in, it's a miracle it doesn't happen every single day, but whatever. She gets more comfortable on the table, examining a tower of pizza boxes in the far corner of the shop.

"Where's Nero?"

A loud clatter comes from the desk, and Dante curses under his breath.

"Think he was supposed to go, do some learnin' with Pattycakes, so I don't think he'll be back today."

"And he was... fine?"

"Sure he was. Why wouldn't he be?"

(Because last night, he was dead serious about cutting off his own arm. Because it's been years, since Lady's seen him this scared. Because he's still a kid, and no kid should be reminded of the eternal damnation, looming over him like that.)

"Just asking."

The desk lets out another dangerous noise, but this time, Dante finally lifts his head with a triumphant smile, waving a thick, white envelope, he throws at Lady without a warning.

She catches it and eyes Dante suspiciously, as he drops onto the couch in front of her.

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Can count, if ya don't trust me."

"Oh, I will, don't you worry. I just want to know if I should blame you for trying to trick me, if it doesn't add up, or for being stupid enough to let the customers trick _you_."

Dante just yawns, seemingly relaxed, but his leg keeps bouncing somewhat nervously.

"The latter. Tryin' to trick ya's like tryin' to get Nero out of the bed before noon, 's just pointless."

Lady sniffs haughtily, before opening her notes and getting to work.

"Alright, let's see... Hell Cainas, that's three large, split in two... the gig for that sleazy Warner guy, five, split in three, Hell Cainas again, but that's all on Trish..."

"Hey, I gave her a tip on that one!"

Lady gives him a pitying look.

"Yeah, and from what she said, by the time you two were supposed to go and take care of that, you were too drunk to get your sorry ass to work."

Dante rolls his eyes.

"Still, I did somethin', didn't I?"

Lady sighs and places a single, twenty-dollar bill on the top of Dante's cash pile.

"Happy?"

"Peachy."

"Good," Lady turns back to her notes, "The Pyrobats, that's on you, that weird infestation on the farm's five large... let's say, it'll be seventy percent for you, the rest's for me... the one gig, when you fucking shot me, thank you very much..."

"It wasn't on purpose..."

"But it's still gonna cost you hella lot..." She goes over the rest of her list, meticulously counting the cash and dividing it into three piles. "The Riot nest... really, you only charged 3k for that?"

Dante shrugs.

"The guy didn't seem loaded, y'know, he was pretty desperate. 'Sides, it was a fun one."

"It was a nightmare, that's what it was, the damn thing wouldn't get out in the open, so I could get a good shot. It was the least fun I had in ages." She huffs irritably at the memory. "You could think that even a damn Riot's clever enough to run, when the whole fucking building's coming down on its head..."

He chuckles, lighting up a new cigarette with the old one.

"It couldn't run."

"Like Hell it couldn't, it had a perfectly fine way out, and we wouldn't have to spend an hour, digging ourselves out of that mess..."

Dante puffs a circle of smoke and pushes long strands of hair away from his eyes.

"Its young ones were there." He grins, seeing Lady's confusion. "What, ya thought demons care for their whelps because they love 'em so much? Nah, they just don't have much of a choice. Must be some evolutionary shenanigans or somethin'."

Now, that's new.

"You mean, they literally can't leave them?"

"They can, I guess, 's just that it's unpleasant enough, that they don't want to."

"Unpleasant how?"

Dante rolls the cigarette between his fingers.

"How the Hell should I know?" The ember sizzles, darker than a normal flame, as if absorbing the light. "Heard it hurts. Like, badly." He shifts uncomfortably. "You done?"

Lady quickly looks over her work once again.

"Pretty much. Here's your cut, minus what you owe me, you earned exactly... negative fuck-knows-how-much, but let's say I'll let you have half of it."

"Cool." Dante jumps off the couch and stretches with a wide yawn, joints cracking, before looking at the dark window. "Wanna go somewhere?"

"Where exactly?"

Dante shrugs.

"Dunno. Out."

She should probably decline, say the thing she's been planning on telling him, and leave. Go home, have a bubbly bath, paint her nails, maybe.

Instead, Lady nods.

"Sure."

***

They end up going pretty much everywhere worth visiting in the whole city, from one bar to another; Lady can't remember the last time she's seen Dante so flurried, smoking cigarette after cigarette, drinking too much, laughing too loud, picking up random girls, the air around him practically buzzing with dark energy, and she allows herself get lost in it, dancing and jumping and screaming at the top of her lungs, letting guys buy her drinks, tittering at their poor jokes, the world turning into a warm, blinding haze around her.

It's almost morning, when they stumble back into the Devil May Cry, giggling and more than a little drunk. Lady pushes past Dante, trying to find the switch to turn on the lights, when she feels his hands around her waist; his skin is so unbearably hot, she can almost feel the flames, lurking just beneath the surface, and when she turns around to face him, his eyes are dark, dark and hungry, and pained, somehow, so much so, that when he kisses her, she just lets him, without thinking about it at first,

(oh, that's such an annoying thing about demons, isn't it? Even if you know what they are, even if this awareness runs so deep in your core, in your blood, in the marrow of your bones, you still have to follow their pull; a demon might have offered an apple, but it was a human, who took the bite)

she melts into his body on instinct more than anything else, the way she did so many times before. His last cigarette has long since been put out, but he still exhales smoke into the kiss, and Lady wonders briefly what it it must feel like, to have lungs always so full of it, if it's suffocating, sometimes, if there's ember there as well; if it burns up, every now and then, or if it smolders evenly, until the smoke builds up into a cloud so thick, it simply has to escape somehow. She buries her fingers into his hair almost unwittingly, sparks cracking against her skin, and then she remembers.

She breaks the kiss, pulling away and trying to ignore a tiny growl, that escapes his throat.

"Dante, I..."

A loud banging echoes in the quiet of the shop, and Dante's head snaps towards the doors, but he doesn't move.

Lady sighs softly, feeling the alcohol leaving her body way too fast for her liking.

"I'll get it."

She pushes past him gently, navigating in the pitch black room, until her fingers find the handle, and she opens the door, only to be faced with Nina Lowell's piercing gaze.

"Is Patty here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what the annoying thing about March is? There's always this one day, when the weather's really decent, and you kinda start hoping, that the spring's finally begun, and then the next day you wake up and it's snowing again, and it's just so not cool.
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all doing fine, and live somewhere where it's not so dreadfully cold most of the time. Unless, of course, cold's your thing, then good for you :D


End file.
